A Midday Treat (NSFN Special)
by Rhysand-vs-Fenrys
Summary: Rhys has been skipping meals again, so Feyre decides to give him an incentive to eat his lunch. (This fic is the first of four "Not Safe For November" smut fics)


**A Midday Treat**

 _I feel like I'm going to die._

Feyre whimpered as her back spasmed, but she resisted as much movement as she could. The bar of air beneath her felt like a torture device. It kept her bowed off the table and was critical to her plan, but _Cauldron_ \- was it really worth it?

She couldn't move an inch, not even to shiver as her skin froze. Heating herself would only cause more problems if things began to melt, but as she cooled she wondered if it was time to risk it.

 _I'll take satisfaction in dying if it kills him too. Serves him right. If he was going to be this late he could have reached out._

Not that Rhysand knew what waited for him on the dining table in the riverfront estate.

He was twenty minutes late so far, twenty minutes that Feyre didn't plan on laying in that ridiculous position- or at least her mate should have been there to distract her.

Her arms were stretched above her head, with one palm holding the back of the other hand. In addition to the cushion of air beneath her back, another one helped prop her left leg ever so slightly off the table- just enough to show off the curve of her calf. Her other leg was softly bent to emphasize her thigh.

And she was completely, utterly naked.

"Feyre?" The front door opened and Feyre swallowed her groan of relief as Rhysand's voice echoed through the house, "I'm sorry I'm late, I had to make a run to the Court of Nightmares to pick up some reports from Kier and then my afternoon meeting was moved up an hour."

 _If he's trying to tell me he's just stopping by to change clothes, I'm going to murder him._

"Feyre?" Rhys sounded slightly out of breath as he buzzed around the house looking for her in the normal places, "I'm sorry- I don't have time to help you with your Illyrian but Az said he'd stop by and answer any questions you-"

His words died in his throat as Rhys passed the archway into their dining room.

She could hear him swallow hard before he took a step back to see if what he caught with the corner of his eye was even real.

Annoyance melted away as Feyre turned her head towards the door. She looked at Rhys from beneath dark lashes- her makeup expertly done by Mor earlier. At the shock and desire in Rhys' own eyes, Feyre's heart began to race.

Rhys didn't speak, he was too busy devouring her body with his gaze. That wasn't where her plan ended though- Feyre wanted him to feast.

As they pulled Prythian back together in the aftermath of Amarantha's reign of terror and Hybern's war, the High Lord of Night took on more than his share of work. Feyre was too new to their Court to be of much help, so for the last year she'd studied in anticipation of the day when she could actually shoulder some of the load. Bit by bit, Rhys transferred oversight and management tasks to her, but it wasn't enough.

He was starving himself again.

Rhys worked from dawn to dusk, granting himself the entire evening and night by his mate's side. He hardly even stopped to eat more than a single meal a day as he darted between meetings. Feyre was certain only his morning sparring sessions with Azriel kept him sane.

Too often he came home with gaunt cheeks and a growling stomach to devour his dinner.

What she was attempting- Feyre knew that no matter the pain, she was happy to endure it if it meant Rhys actually took a break and ate something.

Elain had prepared well over a dozen small bites of food- lettuce packets containing herb-spiced cheeses, seasoned tomatoes on individual bites of toasted bread, and black beans mixed with brown rice, held together in little bundles of dried seaweed. While she'd prepared her portion, Feyre carefully sliced strawberries and mixed blueberries with a hint of honey and a sprinkle of finely shredded coconut flakes.

Once the food was done, Elain helped Feyre carry it into the dining room, then left the estate with instructions not to return until late afternoon.

That was when Mor stepped up.

Feyre donned a robe as her friend painted her eyelids, lips, and brows. She helped Feyre onto the table, and then stepped back. With a nod, Mor lowered the shields in her mind, surrendering control. The next step required an artist, and only Feyre could do what needed to be done.

Mor fell into a pleasant dream as she was blinded to the world around her. Feyre took control in her stead, and removed the robe from the body laying on the table. With a careful wall built around Mor's own mind to keep her from seeing Feyre's nude form, Feyre used her best friend's hands to arrange the entrees along her hips and thighs.

Elain had left a bowl of sauces beside each entree. Aided by a small cooking brush, Feyre painted whorls and stars of the sauce onto herself, imagining how it would feel as Rhys licked it away. Her breasts she covered with the berries, creating a delicate sun and moon. Dots of lemon-cream and chocolate circled her nipples and curled beneath her breasts.

When she was done, Feyre walked Mor's body to the front door before returning to her own- now painted and ready for her husband to ravage.

"Have fun!" Mor had called before heading out into the city.

While Feyre worked, she'd been embarrassed at having her older sister help cook and using her best friend's body to prepare the display on her own skin. Now that Rhys was looking at her though…

 _It was worth it a hundred times over._

Rhys stumbled into the dining room, drawn by a siren's call to his mate. He didn't say anything in case it made the vision before him vanish. He wanted to plant himself between Feyre's legs or over her perfect breasts- but that pesky food was in the way.

He grinned at the boldness of her plan. She'd been pushing him to eat more as his cheeks hollowed, but Rhys was just so busy- he didn't feel like there was time to breathe, let alone eat. Even knowing what it would do to the rest of his day, Rhys couldn't stop himself from running a finger along the edge of Feyre's knee.

She moaned at the contact. He kept that damned finger against her leg as he walked to the end of the table. Feyre shivered- Rhys was going to crawl up the length of her body. She could feel his rough tongue against her skin already.

"Tell Az he should come for dinner instead," Feyre breathed. She _did_ need help with Illyrian verb tenses, but she didn't want him walking in on what was about to happen.

Rhys' eyes were molten as he relayed the message. He pulled off his tunic and pants as he took in Feyre's entrance- fully on display from his new angle. It was obvious enough she was uncomfortable with the position, and through their bond he could feel the ache in her bones. He folded his clothes neatly and set them on a dining room chair.

Prowling like a cat ready to pounce, Rhys pulled himself onto the table. He kept low, drawing closer and closer to the food and swirls of sauce so expertly arranged. With his eyes locked on Feyre's, Rhys leaned to the side and took a bite of lettuce and cheese into his mouth. He didn't let his lips touch her, not until he swallowed and bent down to lick and suck at the skin just above her knee.

Feyre whimpered as the stubble on his jaw scraped against her skin. It was more incredible than she'd imagined, and set her blood boiling in her veins. She couldn't risk breathing too quickly and upsetting the display on her breasts, so Feyre forced herself to hold still.

Rhys didn't intend to make it easy on her.

Kisses, bites, the hard scrape of his tongue, the soft brush of his lips- he employed everything in his arsenal to tease her. To deliver a beautiful punishment for the meeting he was missing.

As he progressed towards her core, his discipline seemed to wilt. Soon Feyre's scent filled the air- with every bite Rhys' teeth now scraped against her skin. Relieved as she was to see him finally eating something, his mouth was nowhere near where she needed it.

Bite by bite, Rhys eased his way along her body. Feyre released the pockets of air beneath her thighs as he finished off the food there and pushed her knees into the table. Only a few pieces of food were along her stomach and ribs, and Rhys made quick work of them on his way up towards her-

As he finished the last nibble of seasoned tomato, Rhys suddenly pounced for the fruit on her breast. Feyre cried out and grabbed the edge of the table for leverage as his hand guided the tip of his member into her.

The sudden pressure warring against the sensation of his mouth on her breast broke Feyre's control. She wrapped her legs around Rhys' hips and tried to force him in deeper, but the stupid Illyrian wouldn't budge. He seated the tip of his member in her entrance and reached up to hold her hands and pin them in place.

Every rock forward to claim a piece of fruit or lick at a dab of cream pushed him in further. Each time he retreated to chew on his prize, Rhys pulled out until only the tip attached him to his better half.

He focused on only one of Feyre's breasts. When it was clean, Rhys reached back to hook her leg over his shoulder. He pushed into her hard and fast, completing their joining as the last bit of his length filled her. Feyre couldn't breathe, couldn't think of anything beyond where they were joined.

Her breaths were rough and ragged, she was shaking with need, but he only smiled and nibbled at her other breast as though he was wholly unaware of her desire. His beautiful, bold, insane mate tricked him into eating his fill, he wanted to toy with her a bit first.

But another spasm in Feyre's back interrupted her gasps with a whimper.

Rhysand pierced her magic with his own- breaking through the brace of air Feyre used to keep her back arched and her breasts on display. Feyre fell onto two warm, waiting arms and she shuddered both at the easing of tension and the promise of blinding release.

He sent a blast of disapproval down their bond at the knots he felt in her back. As much as he loved the display, he knew she'd forced herself to endure the discomfort for the sake of that burning heat in his eyes.

"Never hurt yourself to seduce me," Rhys' voice was guttural.

Feyre's mind was far from the ache in her spine however. She was writhing beneath her mate, trying to move the length inside her as his tongue returned to scrape across her breast. He pinned her to the table with his hips, not even affording her an inch as he nipped at her skin and cleaned away the final traces of food.

All weight and pressure vanished from Feyre's body in a clap of black smoke. She screamed as the cock inside of her evaporated into nothing. The unpleasant shock of nothingness made her snarl at the flash of darkness that appeared in the corner of the dining room- Rhys fully clothed and holding a toothpick.

"Well, lunch was lovely, but as I said- I have a meeting to get to."

Feyre growled a warning as she winnowed in front of Rhys and pierced _his_ magic- the clothes were nothing more than a glamour.

A bratty smirk was her only warning before Rhys tossed the toothpick aside, grabbed his wife, and hauled her up against the wall. Feyre's hands scrambled between them for the still-hard member and she shoved it back inside her body hard and fast. Rhys allowed her one foot on the floor- the other he returned to it's spot on his shoulder.

The position made her almost too tight for him to move, but when he did- oh, it was the best kind of magic.

Rhysand seized Feyre's mouth at long last. He wasted no time in setting a fast pace- they both desperately needed a release. Feyre knew they didn't have all afternoon to play, so she didn't hold back a single moan as her mate pounded into her.

The sound of her stifled cries was fire to his blood. That sound was the greatest of melodies, one he delighted in bringing to a shuddering crescendo. Rhysand groaned as Feyre's hands found their way into his hair, locking his mouth against hers. Their kiss would have to break soon enough, but she always tried to hold on until the end.

Feyre gave herself over to the feeling of Rhys inside her. She could feel him throbbing, and his own pleading moan told her how much he was fighting his release. The position ground him against her knot with each thrust. Feyre pushed Rhys' hand down her chest to her lower abdomen so that he could feel himself moving inside her.

Rhysand opened his mind and drew his mate in- sharing with her the feeling of complete and utter glory as he slipped closer and closer to orgasm. It was a trick they couldn't do often- feeling release from their own body as well as their mates was wholly overwhelming- but he wanted to grant her something special in thanks for her suffering and care.

Finally, she was forced to break the kiss with Rhysand and release his head so they could both breathe. He leaned back to strike a new angle- one that drove him against that innermost spot that made her scream.

The sensations from her body _and_ his paired with the hungry male gleam in his eyes- Feyre couldn't stop the cresting wave. Every muscle in her body pulled towards the spot where they were joined and her legs wracked with violent shudders.

She threw her head back against the wall and cried out as the world exploded in light. Rhysand grabbed her hips and drove into her harder, faster. He didn't stop as her core spasmed around him. Rhys let the feeling washing through Feyre's mind cross into his. He pushed into her hard enough to lift her foot off the floor and as she threw her head back and screamed once more, he found his release.

Heat poured from Rhysand into his mate- he was still filling her as every muscle went loose. Rhys stopped moving and just held her, his own form too tense to keep thrusting as wave after wave shot through his cock.

Despite her oversensitive core, Feyre rolled her hips against Rhys, granting him whatever he needed to finish. She could feel his length pulsing until, with one final cry, he staggered back and nearly fell to the floor.

His cock began to wilt, and Rhys didn't resist as Feyre slid her leg from his shoulder and pulled his hands from her hips. They slumped to the floor as soon as she was stable. He rolled onto his side and slid himself from her at last.

"That was… amazing," Rhys panted in Feyre's ear as he held her.

She could only smile as she gulped down air. Feyre pushed her own hips against Rhys' to keep his cock warm while they both pulsed with phantom eruptions of pleasure.

"You ruined lunch for me," Rhys grinned. "That's the only way I'll ever eat it again."

"If it always ends like this, I don't think I'll mind," she found her voice at last. Then, because she could feel the question forming in his mind, "I don't think Mor's going to let me use her to set that up more than once a year."

"I was wondering how you did it," he said.

"I know."

"I love you."

Feyre tipped her head up to look into those violet eyes that made her heart ache and burn, "I love you too."

He stared at her for a long time before forcing his gaze to the clock, "I'm sorry, Feyre." His meeting would begin soon.

"I didn't want you to miss anything- and I have a class in an hour, I need to get cleaned up."

"I cleaned you up," Rhys purred as Feyre sat up, "I was very thorough."

"Yes, and then you got me all sticky again," Feyre laughed at the smug, overly male look on Rhys' face. "I'd offer to lick you clean, but then we'd _both_ get in trouble for being late."

"I'm going to do things to you tonight so filthy that it takes a priestess to clean our souls," Rhys growled. When Feyre stood he shot forward and grabbed her rear, delivering a bite to one cheek reminiscent of the ferocious kiss he'd given her earlier.

Her body stirred at the images he sent down the bond of precisely what their night would entail. She reached back and combed through Rhys' hair again as he licked where he'd bitten. He never used enough force to break the skin, but he sucked at it until there was a mark for him to admire later.

"Go, before you make us both late," Feyre laughed and pushed his head back.

"But I want you," Rhys pouted.

"What's the meeting about?"

He sighed, "New education requirements. Updating old curriculum, what do we have the children of human refugees learn at what ages, offering classes to adults who need to learn reading and writing, building new schools- just… a lot of different pieces."

"All of which are important to us both," Feyre pulled Rhys to his feet and pressed her head against his chest to listen to his still-pounding heart. He rested his forehead against her shoulder, basking in her scent and warmth.

"OK, _fine_ , I'll get cleaned up," Rhys mumbled reluctantly.

"Want to go to that cafe on the Sidra for dinner?"

"I want to lick dinner off your-"

"The cafe it is." Feyre interrupted Rhys with a kiss, then shoved him towards the door, "Go use the guest bathroom. I need more washing than you."

"I'm going to be thinking dirty thoughts the entire meeting." Rhys swore with a hand over his heart.

Feyre snickered, "Only share the _really_ sinful stuff."

"Promise," Rhys kissed Feyre again, and didn't depart for his shower until they lost _another_ five minutes.

"Hey Rhys?" Feyre called as he headed off in the other direction, "You can't eat off me every day for lunch, but what about we agree to have naked-lunch."

"It sounds perfect," Rhys resisted winnowing to Feyre's side once more.

They never missed a meal again.


End file.
